Boots
by sharkinterviewee
Summary: I know you love me wearing nothing but your boots. - Starmora one shot.


"These are so clunky," Gamora says with immediate distaste. It's like she has weights attached to the bottom of each leg. Her choice of footwear was something light and maneuverable, it made covert missions much easier when you didn't have these huge things strapped to your feet. Gamora's normal choice of footwear was sneaky. These were not sneaky. These were heavy and awkward- and the balance was weird in them too.

She keeps experimentally lifting one leg at a time, like she's trying to get used to how they feel in the air with the pull of gravity.

"Yeah, well, you have rockets strapped to your feet," Peter responds dryly.

That finds her with two feet on the ground, cocking her hip, staring him down.

He's lying in bed, leaning back against the mountain of pillows, stretched out all nice and comfy as he takes all of her in.

He doesn't immediately react though, and Gamora starts nervously shifting on her feet, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Usually Peter is quick to voice his praise with something he really likes, but he's taking a really long time to react now, and she's suddenly feeling scrutinized, and embarrassed for agreeing to doing something so foolish.

This was a stupid idea. Now she's just shifting uncomfortably on her feet, standing there like a fool before him.

"I look ridiculous," she says bitterly, casting her eyes to the side if the room as a flush spreads across her face.

"You look fine as _hell,"_ Peter says fervently. She cautiously meets his eyes, and the heat she sees burning in his sets light to the pool of desire in her lower belly.

"So fucking hot. You're gorgeous. C'mere," he waves his hand, beckoning her to bed. "Please," he adds, and she smiles, unsticking her feet and making her way towards him.

Once she's close enough, Peter wraps his arms around her and pulls her down onto the bed with him without any warning. A shrill sound of surprise that's almost a giggle escapes her lips (not a squeal, Gamora _does not_ squeal), and she swats him on the arm for the sneak attack.

"Peter," she gives him a look that is supposed to be reproachful, but the laughter in her eyes at his silly and ridiculous antics is hardly a good deterrent.

"Mhmm?" His voice is a soft murmur as he kisses her jaw, and she's reminded of what they were doing before his little impromptu fashion show.

"So you," Gamora licks her lips, "You satisfied?"

"Oh babe," he says with a predatory smile. "I'll _never_ be satisfied."

That earns him a breathless laugh as he starts trailing his lips down her chest, and she arches her back into him.

Gamora spreads her knees to straddle him, rutting her hips against him, rubbing her slickness all over his groin.

"You know I meant," she breaks off with a light gasp as his finger finds her clit, pressing into his touch, annoyed and wanting him very much. "Meant if it was," her brow furrows and she grips his shoulder, forcefully canting her hips down as she tried to think. "What you thought it was. Would be. If it was like what you- what you imagined. Is it- like you wanted?"

"Mmm, better," he hums rubbing her clit in irregular circles, and Gamora practically purrs, clenching her legs slightly as she rides his hand.

"Any fantasy I've ever had is nothing compared to the real thing. Nothing compares to you. Better than anything I ever could have imagined. God you're so good, Gamora," Peter groans, his face buried in her neck. He licks a long stripe up the column of her throat, and she shudders, panting already. "I want you so bad. Let me show you how good I think you look," he requests. He keeps up the light strokes surrounding her clit and she rocks on his hand. Then she slows, nods her head, and he removes his hand, and she shifts off of him.

Gamora reaches down to unstrap the rocket boots now that they were really getting down to it, but he covers her hand, stopping her.

"No. Leave those on." His voice is rough and ragged in all the right ways.

And she doesn't mind, so she pulls her hand away from the first buckle latch, instead opting to lean back on the mountain of pillows and get comfortable, spreading her legs open wide for him, giving him all the access he needs to worship her pussy.

Because apparently seeing wasn't enough for him. He didn't just want to see her wearing nothing but his boots.

Now she was wearing nothing but his boots, and he wanted to fuck her like this too.

Maybe the boots were clunky and foreign on her feet, too heavy for her silent assassin tastes, but how impractical they were on her didn't matter right now.

The only that mattered was how the sight of her completely naked and wearing his rocket boots turned Peter right the fuck on, and he wanted to show her exactly how much. Give her his appreciation.

That was the only thing she cared about, really. How good his mouth felt against her as he went to work wringing pleasure from her lips. So yeah, she fucked his face wearing nothing but his boots. And Peter was _delighted_.

* * *

 **AN: Not exactly a songfic, more of single line/lyric fic. Inspiring line "I know you love me wearing nothing but your boots" taken from Boots by Kesha.**

 **I have more explicit Starmora fics over on my ao3 account (same username), I'm just too afraid to break the rules and put anything more than mild sexual content over here. But if you wanna check it out, I do have smutty starmora fics over there.**


End file.
